


Scraps of Shenanigans

by Gylaan



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Senki Zesshou Symphogear
Genre: Anthology, Deleted Scenes, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gylaan/pseuds/Gylaan
Summary: Deleted scenes and scrapped side-stories to whatever I happen to be working on (currentlyThe Power of Song). Canonicity dubious.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. The Power of Song: Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After [helping](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524861/chapters/69937059) Chris learn Windbite, Luciane joins her for dinner. And Chris wants something cleared up.
> 
> Canonicity: I guess if you _really_ want it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out how to make this scene fit, but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote it standalone and put it here.

Chris cast a suspicious glance across the table at where Luciane was enjoying her own slice of pie. Their eyes met, and the Elezen gave her an enigmatic smile.

Swallowing her mouthful, Chris broke the silence. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, “this isn’t a date or anything, right?”

Luciane’s fork paused on its approach to her mouth as the woman blinked, then let out a full-throated laugh. “Oh, not at all,” she said, waving off Chris’s concerns. “Nothing against you, of course, but a woman’s touch has never been able to satisfy me.”

Chris nodded at her words, then rapidly flushed as she realized their meaning. “G-geez!” she said, averting her eyes. “Save that kind of talk for at home!”

Luciane laughed again, loud and long enough to draw attention from nearby patrons. “But Chris,” she said teasingly, “I thought you _didn’t_ want this to be a date?”

Chris’s face reddened further. “I’m,” she declared, slamming her hands on the table as she stood, “going to bed!” She took two steps, then whirled to point at Luciane, who’d opened her mouth to speak. “That’s _not_ an invitation!”


	2. The Power of Song: Warm Unwelcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After [arriving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524861/chapters/69937059) in Camp Tranquil, Chris is treated to some good, old-fashioned Gridanian xenophobia.
> 
> Canonicity: It _could've_ happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as the setup for an impromptu archery competition (which would have ended with Chris shooting her opponent's arrow out of the air, because she's just that badass), but Chris reminded me that she doesn't really engage in pissing matches, and then it started getting long in a chapter that was already long, and it wasn't really advancing the story, so it got cut. Sharing it because it has some dialog I like.

One of the closer Wailers, a grey-haired and ashen-skinned Miqo’te, watched the process, from construction to consumption, with growing concern. “Are you… sure you’re alright with that?” she hesitantly asked as Chris took her third valiant bite.

Chris paused to glance at her, then shrugged. “I’ve had worse,” she managed to say around her mouthful. Though admittedly, stale bread crusts and mucky ditch water wasn’t a high bar to clear.

The Wailer seemed taken aback by her nonchalance. “Well, um,” she stammered out, “we have some leftover soup, if you—”

“Detoh!” another of the Wailers hissed at her.

“What?” the Miqo’te said indignantly. “Anything we don’t finish tonight will just feed the morbols tomorrow, so it may as well go to someone who needs it.”

“You’ve a curious perception of who ‘needs’ it,” one of the Quivermen said disdainfully, his eyes darting meaningfully to Chris’s prodigious chest.

Chris swallowed and slowly turned to glare at the man, a brown-haired Elezen. “If you’ve got a problem with me, how about you just come out and say it?”

The man met her glare with one of his own. “My problem,” he growled, “is that adventurers like you come into our woods with no knowledge or respect for our traditions, and we’re expected to thank you for your so-called  _ ‘services’ _ .”

“Oh, so you’re just shitting on me because I’m not from around here,” Chris said with a roll of her eyes. “What a  _ novel _ and  _ exciting _ experience.” She fixed the Quiverman with another glare, this one more pitying than angry. “I had enough of that when I was six, so how about you come back when you’ve got  _ actual _ beef with me?” She then took another bite of her sandwich to drive the point home.

That drew a smattering of stifled laughter from the rest of the group. The Quiverman stood and furiously stalked towards Chris to loom over her threateningly.

Chris, for her part, merely fixed him with a balefully uninterested stare. “Just so you know,” she said, swallowing, “‘she told me off for being mean to her for no reason’ is  _ not _ a legitimate grievance.”

That just seemed to incense the man further. “I don’t have to accept this kind of back-talk from you,” he growled.

Chris snorted. “After the day I’ve had, you’re lucky back-talk is all you’re getting,” she said dismissively, leaning forward to take another bite of her sandwich—

—Only for the Elezen to slap it from her hands, scattering its components across the ground.

Chris looked at the empty space in her hands, then slowly closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She stood with careful, deliberate motions. Then, opening her eyes, she addressed the Miqo’te who’d first spoken to her. “Hey, Detoh, was it? I think I’ll take you up on that bowl of soup, if the offer’s still open.”

She began to stammer out a response, but the Quiverman interrupted. “It most certainly is  _ not _ !” He started to say more, but froze as Chris fixed him with the most intense glare he’d ever been on the receiving end of. In that moment, being stared down by a girl a full two fulms shorter than him, he felt as though he had unwittingly strode into a behemoth’s lair and was now firmly in its sights.

“All I wanted from tonight,” Chris said quietly, “was to have my  _ shitty _ dinner, find some  _ shitty _ spot to lay out my  _ shitty _ sleeping bag, and get some  _ shitty _ sleep so I could set out in the  _ shitty _ morning to the next  _ shitty _ stop on this  _ shitty fucking journey! _ ” Her voice gradually rose throughout the tirade until she was practically yelling. “But apparently, even  _ that _ was setting my expectations too high, because that’s just how things go for me lately, isn’t it?

“I  _ tried _ to disengage,” she continued, “I  _ gave _ you a chance to just let it be, but apparently your ego is too damn big to handle me pointing out that I don’t have to entertain your pointless fucking antagonism!”

“J-just who do you think you are?” the Quiverman demanded, having gathered some sense of bravado.

“I’m  _ about _ to be an avatar of violent retribution if you don’t shut the hell up!” Chris snapped, and the man flinched. “So here’s what’s going to happen:  _ I _ am going to get my bowl of soup, eat it in peace, and then get some much needed rest;  _ you _ are going to clean up your mess,” she gestured to the sandwich components scattered across the ground, “sit quietly in the corner, and not bother me for the rest of the night.” He opened his mouth to respond, but Chris preempted him. “And if you decide you have an issue with that, we find out how many new holes I have to put in your face to get the point across. Capisce?”

“C-clear as crystal, ma’am.” The behemoth deigned him unworthy of its destructive attention, more intent on a peaceful rest than exacting revenge—provided, of course, that he vacated its territory immediately. He quickly stepped around her to collect the scattered foodstuffs, clearing Chris’s path to the cookfire, where the rest of the group watched in awed silence.


End file.
